


Dissimilar and Irresistible

by Bai_Marionette



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Warnings by chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-08 21:48:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7774969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bai_Marionette/pseuds/Bai_Marionette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of JayDick drabbles - all will vary in length, warnings and rating. Updated periodically, mostly short chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nobody does it like you do

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble #1:  Rating: T / Prompt: They’re all lust sighs and staunch faces – until they’re not. / WARNING: Canonverse. Contains implied sex, one-sided relationship. Emotional conflict.

 

**Inspired by 'Daddy's Issues' by The Neighbourhood.**

> _And if you were my little girl_   
>  _I'd do whatever I could do_   
>  _I'd run away and hide with you_   
>  _I love that you got daddy issues_   
>  _And I do too_

* * *

 

“What are you thinking about?” Dick pretended to rub something from his eye; an excuse to turn over in the rumpled sheets, towards the only source of sound in the room. Jason was already shoving his feet into his boots, forgoing doing anything to his still sex-mussed hair. He wasn’t making eye contact. Purposely throwing more force as he got dressed, trying to avoid conversation, trying to avoid sticking around for any longer than what it took to come inside and then go right back out.

Dick was undeterred. “You’re always running off after we do this. Wanna talk about it?”

Jason continued tying up his boots for some reason – he was buying time. He had something on his mind, but didn’t know how to voice it. Typical Jason. Dick wanted to sigh. He was getting sick of always initiating the conversation.

“Fine, it’s fine, _adios_ or whatever,” Dick said, turning his back to Jason. He was tensed to drop to the floor in the not-so-rare chance that the other might try to pull a gun on him. But nothing happened. There was silence for a whole minute or so, too long for Jason to be still, and when Dick looked back – he was alone in the room.

Dick ran a hand through his hair, frustration furrowing his brow. “Damn it, Jason.”

-

Dick perched on a rooftop overlooking the crime scene. Guilt pooled when he noticed the body smearing the pavement. Following Jason was easier to justify on nights when it was him stirring the trouble and not his cavalcade of crooks. Dick should’ve been keeping an eye out for this too. _Bias,_ Batman warned in his thoughts.

Dick still didn’t leave. He listened instead. It wasn’t some lowly crook making the wrong deal at the right time to get busted. It was a nark with a tragic back story hallmark to inner-city Gotham; attempting to do justice, too deep in the devil’s business to succeed. He lay on his back, choking on his own blood and clutching the reddening front pocket of his jacket. Jason motioned for his goons to finish up what they started. His eyes, however, were trained on Dick. 

Meeting eyes like this was always stiff. They were both working. But now was the right time for a conversation.

Jason was the one to make the first move; he walked away. Dick told himself not to follow.

He didn’t report back to Batman about the drug shipment. He didn’t mention the death of an honest good man trying to do what he had thought was the right thing. He didn’t even see Batman at all that night. Too busy rolling around in red sheets and yanking at familiar strands of dark hair. Dick had crawled through Jason’s window. Jason tossed a string of beads on his nightstand, then tossed Dick onto his bed.

The conversation never happened. What did happen were Dick’s eyes catching on the rosary, fingers lacing through the beads and pocketing that ancient memory of a younger Jason mentioning his mother. The cross burned against his thigh.

Dick would be back in his own apartment after four in the morning. Neck somewhat sore in places, body more sore in others, heart thudding slowly and painfully in his chest. He had stepped inside, closed the door and then slid down to the floor. He didn’t notice the intermingling of dark blues and pinks from the incoming daybreak. He didn’t even notice the tears on his cheeks.

Barely noticed the broken cry that tried to wretch itself out of his throat.

-

Jason slept soundly.

Dick didn’t sleep at all.

-

“You look like shit,” Damian observed the evening Dick paid the Manor a visit. It was almost strange seeing him outside Robin attire. Wayne family bonding was often restricted to patrols. Damian set down his tea cup, expression solemn. He had the calculating eyes of an assassin; they were at once too much like his mother and much too old for his face.

Dick laughed. It didn’t even sound genuine to him. He wondered why he was trying; if anyone could read him better than an open book, it was Damian. The kid saw everything.

Dick leaned back in the lounge chair. “Just missed a few nights of sleep is all,” he answered. He tried to focus on the crackling of the fire and the smell of books in the library. He felt antsy, but his body gave nothing away. He watched the flames crackle and pop in the hearth of the fireplace. _A distraction within a distraction,_ Dick realized, and this time his laugh was authentic.

Jason was bound to notice that he was gone. Or maybe the Dick left behind would inform him. Maybe he would notice the stolen rosary first. Maybe he would finally figure out –

“Grayson.”

“Oh,” Dick smiled too big. He quickly corrected it, made it smaller, more believable. “You say something? Sorry, I lapsed out there for a sec, what did you say?”

Damian looked predatory, fingers on the verge of breaking the fragile china in between his hands and eyes far too knowing. It made the hairs on Dick’s nape rise and the sweat on his palms stick. He was almost angry to think that a child could notice his feelings, but not the very person they were for.

“Why don’t you sleep here tonight?” Damian said. It wasn’t a suggestion.

Dick tried to smile at that prying gaze, starting to get up as he felt the phone in his pocket buzz to life. It wasn’t a call, too short lived, probably a text. He was making his escape regardless. He was already through the door as he said, “Can’t. I got plans elsewhere for the night.”

Damian watched his every move, a lone finger tracing the crack down the side of the tea cup.

It was a miracle in itself that he had not broken it completely.

-

“You got some nerve,” Jason snarled, pressing the barrel of a gun beneath Dick’s chin. The rosary peeked out from Jason’s shirt. There was a hand on Dick’s throat, but he wasn’t afraid. He was smiling. He had gotten Jason’s attention and he wanted to laugh that it was this easy to rile the other up. “Quit grinnin’ or I’ll break your teeth in.”

“Bet you’d love that,” Dick snickered and Jason growled, slamming the vigilante’s head against the brick wall. Stars briefly lit up behind Dick’s eyelids. For a brief second, his grip on the hand that Jason used to hold his throat was almost threatening. For a brief second, Jason might have believed that Dick would fight back this time. But when that second passed, there was nothing and he scoffed.

“Whatever,” Jason dismissed. Dick knew he was scowling behind that red mask of his. “You’re not worth my time anyways.”

Jason released him none-too-gently and began walking away. Abandoning, really, just like he did with all of his problems. Dick was just another problem for him apparently.

When he left, Dick felt as discarded as that body smeared on the pavement.  
But that feeling was simply routine by now.


	2. Viven la vida en el amor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble #2: Rating: T / Prompt: cute dorks dancing to latin music and being domestic / WARNING: Canonverse. Contains fluff, established relationship and spanish song lyrics. ["Será, será" / "Hips don't lie" by Shakira feat. Wyclef.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i shoulda posted this a while ago but eh - here you go

Dick sat, idly poking and tilting the seasoning containers as Jason busied himself by the sink, cutting vegetables. The Romani puffed his cheeks, trying to nonverbally demand attention and when that failed, switched tactics. Dick groaned audibly and yet still, Jason ignored him. Fed up with the silence, Dick smirked - unlocking his phone and opening his music app. He scrolled through a few radio stations and then with a barely audible "Aha!" - he clicked on one station in particular.

The result was almost instantaneous. The dull sound of chopped carrots hitting the aluminum sink slowed and Dick put the phone, face-down and speaker facing out, onto the island counter. His grin was spreading as he tried to hum along with the singer and wrap his arms about Jason's waist.

"The answer is no," Jason replied, resuming his slicing. Dick didn't move, grin still stretching across his face as he tried to hum louder and keep moving his hips. He ground at the back of the other's back, the taller trying to move away whilst also making a move to twist around to probably punch Dick in the face. He turned toward too late, the music tempo picking up and Dick opening his  mouth to say something. 

"But my hips don't lie-" The Romani mock-sang, purposefully off-key and slightly tone deaf; he wanted to laugh at the face Jason was making - almost pained at the purposeful bad singing."

Jason was turning back toward, scoffing, "You're not Shakira-"

Dick smirked, not even giving the other a chance to finish his sentence, speaking easily and fluently in tune with the singer, "Yo no sabia que ella bailaba así-"

The taller stiffened in his arms, maybe from shock, maybe from an inner arousal, maybe from both. All the very same, the older male continued, leaning just the little bit on his tiptoes to whisper by Jason's ear. "-Aquella noche io me enlo-"

Jason finished the lyric for him, the hairs of the back of his neck raising ever slightly, "-nloquecí cómo se llama, bonita-"

"-mi casa, su casa-" Dick continued singing, he pushed the knife from Jason's hands. He was laughing along the lyrics, following the familiar steps of the dance he had learned from the Cubano long ago. Left, right, left, right, twirl - left, right. The smile on Jason's face took only a few steps and a few more beats of the song to start to form. Then there crinkles by his eyes, a peek of teeth from his smile and the Romani felt something in his middle warm.

Jason's smile at the very moment was authentic. It looked natural. It actually happy. It brought out the freckles lost in the dimples of his cheeks. He looked almost like a kid again - happy and lost in the motions of Latin dance - reliving some long distant or buried memory.

It made Dick happy to see Jason happy.   
It made Dick happy to know that he could make Jason happy.


End file.
